


Welcome to the mile high club

by Prim_the_Amazing



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, Mile High Club, kai comes on strong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing
Summary: Kai has a six hour flight to the next location she’s holding a festival at, and she’s finally gonna become a member of the mile high club before the plane lands or else she’ll nine eleven it, she swears to god. It’s an absolute travesty that it’s taken her this long; she just hasn’t had the opportunity yet. All of her prior festivals have been in USA, reachable by car, and so it’s just never come up before. Well, that ends today. She’s gonna get her rocks off with a stranger inside a cramped bathroom stall while miles above the ground, and then she’s gonna go and throw a bitching party in Australia. It’s a flawless plan.She ends up being seated between a window and a nerd having a panic attack.





	Welcome to the mile high club

Kai has a six hour flight to the next location she’s holding a festival at, and she’s finally gonna become a member of the mile high club before the plane lands or else she’ll nine eleven it, she swears to god. It’s an absolute travesty that it’s taken her this long; she just hasn’t had the opportunity yet. All of her prior festivals have been in USA, reachable by car, and so it’s just never come up before. Well, that ends today. She’s gonna get her rocks off with a stranger inside a cramped bathroom stall while miles above the ground, and then she’s gonna go and throw a bitching party in Australia. It’s a flawless plan. 

She ends up being seated between a window and a nerd having a panic attack. 

This is how it goes: She boards the plane. Everything fine so far. She takes her seat. Window seat because fuck yes, she has money now, she can live her life the way she deserves. She lets the hot stewardess stow her carry on onto the shelf thingy on the ceiling of the plane above her, because she can afford first class now and never has to lift a finger again, except for when she wants to. She browses twitter and texts and plays candy crush and micromanages her subordinates over the phone as she waits. A nerd gets into the seat next to hers. She considers him. 

Tall, which she likes (she also likes short and average), his hair light grey in a way that tells her that he might be blond or a redhead (brunettes are hot too though), and he nervously doesn’t make eye contact with her as he gets settled in which is downright  _ cute, _ kinda (cocky and confident is nice as well). There’s the unofficial rule that you don’t acknowledge the people you sit next to on public transport unless absolutely necessary, of course, but he deliberately keeps his head down in a way that’s noticeable. 

She’s wearing her comfy slutty dress, since she’s traveling, but it’s still slutty like the overwhelming majority of her wardrobe. She crosses her legs just so, eye catching movement. His eye darts over quickly in her direction, and then darts just as quickly away, a slight flush on his face now. She grins. 

Oh yeah. This guy will do just fine. 

And then liftoff happens, all color leaves his face, and he clutches at the armrests like death itself is going to show up to try and rip him out of his seat and throw him out of the emergency exit. 

He lets out a particularly pitiful whimper and doesn’t even glance at her when she stretches as alluringly as she knows how, and she slumps back into her seat in defeat. He’s clearly not in the mood to have the time of his life. Why the hell did she have to have the luck to end up seated next to someone with a fear of flight? 

She tries to subtly crane her head to see if there are any other possible targets. The stewardess? No, she was more likely to put a  _ stop _ to the whole mile high club thing than anything else. That… old nun? That married couple with a baby? That really ugly guy? That kinda hot guy that’s sitting as far away from her as its possible to get in this cabin? 

“Shitsnacks,” she mutters, and orders a merlot and a packet of peanuts. Two hours goes by with her sadly passing her time eating, drinking, napping, and fucking around on her phone. It’s  _ depressing. _ She should be getting her brains fucked out right now. The world is cruel and unfair. 

The entire plane shakes, like a gigantic toddler is clumsily waving it about. She steadies herself reflexively as the pilot’s voice crackles through the plane,  _ “Heading through some turbulence now, nothing to worry about.”  _

“Please put your table trays away,” the stewardess says, and then starts demonstrating how to put the seatbelt on as if none of them know how seatbelts work. 

Annoying. Now she can’t even nap or orders more food and drinks. And shit, reception just fucked off! She frowns and puts her for now useless phone away, and it then occurs to her that it’s kinda weird that the nerd hasn’t had anything to say or whimper about this. She looks at him. Blinks. 

He’s got his hands fisted on his knees, knuckles as white as his face, and his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s breathing fast. She feels… sorry for him. 

“Uh,” she says awkwardly. Comforting has never been her thing. “It’s gonna be okay, dude.” 

He nods, not opening his eyes. “I know,” he says, voice thick with fear. “Turbulence is just hot air. No plane has ever crashed because of it. I read that in a book.” 

So he’s got his facts straight. He’s just… nervous. Can’t shake it. She gets it, phobias are irrational as hell. Her brother can’t even get near a guaranteed clean and friendly pet bat. 

She bites at her bottom lip as she thinks, kind of wanting to fix this. She’s got to find some way to distract him. 

_ He’s still cute when he’s scared,  _ a part of her brain that basically never shuts off says. An idea occurs to her. 

That… huh. It sounds like it could be kind of very fun. Or an awkward disaster. 

It sounds like exactly her kind of thing, in other words. And she never lets awkward touch her, anyways. 

She puts her hand on his, which finally makes him look at her. She smiles. 

“I’m Kai,” she says, because she likes it when they know what name to desperately try and muffle behind their hand. 

“Sim--Simmons,” he says. 

“Follow me,” she says, and then stands up, not letting go of his hand. 

“Um!?” he says, but he follows after her after a moment of pulling. 

He looks self consciously around at the other passengers as they walk, but Kai only has eyes for the stewardess. She makes sure that they aren’t being watched by her when she shoves Simmons into the tiny airplane bathroom, and then follows him inside. She locks the door behind her, and looks up at her prey. 

They’re basically already pressed up against each other, even with Simmons visibly trying to take up as little space as possible, his back pressed up against the wall. He looks down at her like a deer in headlights, his face lighting up with a blush. She grins. It’s already working. She likes fixing things. She likes  _ doing.  _

And screwing. 

“Wanna fuck?” she asks. 

“WHAT,” he says. 

_ “Shh,” _ she urges him, looking furtively behind her at the locked door. She looks back at him, and puts on her charming  _ let’s do something bad together _ smile. Hooks a finger into one of his belt loops. “I just thought that you maybe wanted a little distraction? And I’m a _ great  _ distraction.” 

“Um, ah,” he stutters. She squishes her boobs together with her hands to exaggerate her cleavage, not even trying to be classy or subtle.  _ “Ummmmmmm,” _ he goes on, voice breaking. 

“Come  _ onnn,” _ she coaxes him, jiggling her boobs in her hands. “It’ll be  _ funnn.”  _

“Please stop doing that with your voice,” he says desperately. “And your-- your---”

“Tits?” She squeezes them for emphasis. 

His face has gone  _ so _ red. He nods mutely. 

“Why?” she asks. “Does it give you a boner?” 

He hides his face in his hands, which absolutely isn’t a no. 

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you got one,” she says. “I’d take care of it.” 

The plane shakes violently again, and he loses his balance except there’s not enough room in here to properly fall so instead he just ends up hitting the back of his head against the wall and grabbing at her and the sink. She falls too, sliding down his chest face first, grabbing at his sides. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, except that’s not his adorable flustered voice of only a moment ago. “Oh god, we’re all gonna  _ die--” _

“Nah, dude, shhh. No plane has ever crashed because of turbulence, remember?” She feels him nod, can hear his heartbeat slam inside of his chest. She puts her thigh in between his legs and presses it against his crotch. “You’re gonna be _ just _ fine.” 

He makes a  _ noise. _ She loves it. 

“So?” she asks, leaning away just enough to look up into his face and to make her breasts pressed up against him more noticeable. “You in?” 

He looks embarrassed and aroused and tempted and conflicted and absolutely terrified. Of crashing, or of her? 

The plane shakes. She darts in for a kiss at his throat. 

“I’m in,” he says. 

She makes a happy close mouthed sound, grabs his hips, and starts giving him a hickey, her thigh pressing harder against his dick. 

“Shit,” he breathes, stunned, and then after a long moment of hover handing, he tentatively takes hold of her hips, his touch featherlight. 

She laughs against his skin, endeared, and gives the underside of his jaw a peck, pausing for just a moment to enjoy the sight of her lipstick smeared onto his pale throat. And then she grabs his chin and kisses him good and  _ proper, _ deep and long. She swallows the wonderful little sounds he can’t seem to stop making, enjoys the slick warmth of his tongue and his lips, the way his breath puffs irregularly out of his nose, like he keeps forgetting to breathe. 

She  _ did _ get lucky. Clearly, this is the cutest man on the entire airplane. 

She grabs one of his hands, and then presses it up against her breast. He squeaks and breaks the kiss, looking at her wide eyed. She grins at him with all of her teeth. “You can touch ‘em if you want, y’know.” 

“Uh, um,” he says. 

“Sooo suave,” she can’t help teasing. 

“Shut up!” he snaps defensively, and then visibly has an internal mental meltdown about telling the woman he’s groping to shut up. She laughs in his face. He flushes (even though he’s never really entirely stopped yet), and then he gets a determined frown on his face like he’s about to face his execution and be defiant about it. He squeezes her boob, once. 

She hides her smile into his neck, muffling her giggle, and then says, “Hang on.” 

His hands are immediately off of her and up in the air like a cop’s waving a gun at him, and really, she can’t stop smiling around this dude. 

The armholes of her dress are wide, going down to her ribs, for maximum opportunity to show off side boob. Or at least that’s what it is for her when she wears it. She thinks she can vaguely remember the model in the magazine wearing a camisole underneath, but  _ meh. _ The less clothes the better, in her opinion. 

Also, it makes it very convenient for her to quickly unclasp her bra and slip it out and off without taking off all of her clothes in this shitty bathroom. She tosses it into the sink with only a vague hope that she’ll remember it later. 

She turns back to Simmons, and he’s back to looking like she’s about to wreck him. Well, she  _ is,  _ but hopefully he’ll enjoy it too. 

She takes his hand and slips it through her wide armhole and onto her boob, and she makes a little noise at how unexpectedly cold his palm is. Simmons looks at his hand underneath her dress like there’s suddenly an independent snake attached to his arm. 

“Well?” she says. “Come on. Rub the nipple a bit, I believe in you.” 

That snaps him out of it enough for him to spare her a weak glare, but it quickly slips away as he follows her instructions, his teeth biting down on his lower lips as he concentrates. His expression of utter focus weirdly does it for her more than the rubbing--although the rubbing is nice as well--and she moans a little. Just a small thing, not enough to get them caught but enough to get his face flaming again, for his eyes to go wide with awe rather than fear as he looks at her face. 

She grabs at him and pulls him down for another kiss, a familiar heat starting to seriously stir in the pit of her belly now. He’s taking this, her, so  _ seriously. _ It’s sweet. She wants to make him feel good. 

She puts her hand down his pants and grabs his dick. 

“Ngh--!” he bites out, and she puts a finger up to her lips even as her shoulders are shaking with restrained laughter. Sure, so she  _ is _ laughing _ at _ him, but if it’s possible to do that in a nice way then that’s what she’s doing now. 

She strokes his dick and he has to put the hand that isn’t busy fondling her over his own mouth. She squeezes him, gratified, and he makes another one of those fantastic little noises which makes her pussy  _ ache  _ for something when she hears it muffled. It’s so fucking hot. 

“God, I need you inside of me,” she whispers. 

She gives him his moment to freeze and splutter about that, and finally he gets out a full sentence which is a thready hissed,  _ “I don’t have a condom.” _

“Shit!” she says. “Neither do I!” Or rather, all of her condoms are all the way over in her carryon and like  _ hell  _ she’s leaving this stall without experiencing at least one orgasm first. Fuck. Shit.  _ Think. _ “Your hand,” she realizes. God, sex really does kinda make her even dumber. 

“My hand?” he asks confusedly, so at least she isn’t the dumbest person in this bathroom stall. The fact that she hasn’t stopped stroking him for a moment may help. 

“Finger me, numbnuts,” she says. 

“Oh,” he says. “Oh my god, okay.” 

And then his hand leaves her breast, goes down to her thigh, and slides with hesitant-- _ teasing _ \-- slowness up under her dress. His other hand goes to her shoulder for leverage as he does as much bodily rearranging in the small space they inhabit as possible so that he can comfortably reach the top of her underwear, the tips of his fingers  _ just _ slipping underneath the band. 

“Come on,” she whines. “Before I die of blue balls.” 

“Women can’t get that and _ don’t rush me!” _

“Yeah, well, neither can men.” And then she makes out with Simmons for a while because she needs to do something, needs to move, but she isn’t gonna keep giving him this handjob until he gets his fingers inside of her because so many men just fuck off once they get what they want. She swears to god, if only he gets an orgasm out of this then she’s gonna make the rest of this flight a living nightmare for him. 

His hand slips into her underwear. He breathes shakily against her lips for a moment, and then he finally, _ finally _ crooks a finger into her. She groans, just barely remembering to keep it quiet, and wiggles down onto it because it isn’t  _ enough, _ his fingers are too fucking slender. 

“More,” she practically pants. “More fingers.” 

“Right,” he says, sounding very dry mouthed. He licks his lips and she wants to record him. “Right.” 

He slips in another finger, and at her urging, a third. He thrusts them up into her like he’s afraid he’s going to break something, but they glide in effortlessly. She rocks her hips into it, and soon they’ve got a rhythm going, their wrists moving in tandem, the two of them breathing heavily against each other in this small space as the plane trembles around them in the bad weather, forgotten. 

“My clit,” she eventually gasps. “Give it some lovin’, please--”

He promptly does so and she has to bite down on his shoulder, rocking down onto his fingers desperately, her gripping him tightly. 

_ “Kai,” _ he says raggedly. 

“Shh, shh,” she says nonsensically. “Gotta-- gotta be quiet, oh fuck baby, that’s good, keep doing that.” 

He does, he follows orders so well, and then he’s cupping his free hand around the back of her head and pulling her up onto her toes which feels kinda  _ amazing _ downstairs, and he’s leaning down and kissing her again and it’s not light but it’s  _ sweet, _ he’s such a sweet fuck. 

She moans into the kiss and something inside of her just… releases. 

Orgasms, she has the presence of mind to think some long moments later, are great. 

“Kai,” he says again. “Kai, Kai, Kai.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” she says, feeling soft and stretchy and warm, like a piece of taffy left out in the sun. She kisses his shoulder, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and all the while she keeps stroking him, faster and faster the way most guys like when they’re approaching the end. 

He’s clutching at her desperately, so she decides to help the poor guy out and she muffles his cries herself with her free hand as he comes, and she honestly feels like her brain is sloshing over with dopamine. Sex is great. Sex with cute, sweet, funny guys is great. 

_ “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now landing,” _ their pilot informs the entire plane. 

“Welcome to the mile high club, Simmons” she murmurs, utterly satisfied. 


End file.
